


Ace, King, Queen

by Maur



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU - Modern Royalty, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Arranged Marriage, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maur/pseuds/Maur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhenya's not sure what he's getting into, but it's too late now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ace, King, Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brax/gifts).



It was probably ironic that Zhenya wasn't crowned during his wedding _because_ he was marrying a prince.

In Canadian weddings, they don't crown each other, and as the prince-consort of Nova Scotia does not wear a crown, it was considered confusing for crowns to be involved in the ceremony.

One day - when he becomes prince consort of Canada - he'll be crowned along with his husband.

So Zhenya had worn a narrow circlet through the ceremony, set with rubies to match the heavy red robe, red for Canada and Russia, maple leaves and double-headed eagles embroidered in gold thread around the edges.

"Thank you," he said, as two - stylists, he thought - lifted the robe from his shoulders. They wore white gloves, and they paid as little attention to him as to a mannequin, tenderly folding the robe into reams of tissue paper. Thirty years hence, he'd probably have to stand beside it and smile at an exhibition somewhere, while the newspapers bickered over how well he'd aged.

He took the circlet off, and Flower stepped forward with the correct velvet case for him to lay it in, before marking it down on her little list. She'd removed her small square hat and her hair was loose, still curling from the tight chignon she'd wound it into for the ceremony and luncheon.

"All right, Geno?" Flower rubbed her thumb over the dent the circlet had left in his skin. She'd selected the name from a list provided of all the nicknames Zhenya had had in his life. Apparently a name that Canadian tongues could pronounce made him more relatable.

Apparently, Canadian private secretaries were on first-name terms with their charges. Flower had flown to Russia on the day of the engagement, and had ruthlessly managed his life since then, all her giggly good nature concealing a ferocious attachment to order and method.

He ducked his head, and breathed in her perfume, a light rose scent. No artificial musks, to imitate alpha or omega scent; she was all beta.

If he hadn't been an omega, he might have married a woman like her. No need to form a bond or deal with scents or bear children; if he'd been a beta, he could have pursued hockey, and royal attention would have passed down the line of succession to the next unfortunate male to present as an omega.

"Everything is fine," Zhenya said to her delicate collarbones, because there was really nothing else to say.

"You looked great," she said, and patted his cheek. "Did a fantastic job, stood up straight the whole time."

Photographs, ceremony, more photographs – with his new husband – and his back ached from standing erect with however many kilos of velvet cascading from his shoulders. Then a coach ride through the city, waving and smiling at a blurring mass of people, and then the reception line, and then the excruciatingly formal lunch, which Zhenya had mostly spent praying that he didn't drop food on his white tunic in front of half dozen world leaders.

He'd shaken innumerable hands, had his cheeks and hand kissed, and gotten to hold the Crown Princess of Norway, who'd regarded him with charming indifference. Finally, he'd been ushered upstairs to this anonymous guest bedroom.

It was barely three, and he was completely wrung out.

“That's the hard bit, anyway – it's just friends and family from now on.” Flower stepped back, and cast her sharp gaze around the room. "All right. I've got some checks to make. You get ready for your nap - you can shower now or after, whichever you like, but try not to get your hair wet or the hairstylist will cry."

That was the most choice he'd have about his schedule in the whole day, so he took the opportunity. His worn Magnitka t-shirt and sweatpants were laid out on the bed, incongruous against the brocade bedspread. He stripped, very carefully, out of the heavy white tunic and pants he'd been subjected to, and left them there instead.

White for purity, of course, like everyone couldn't smell that on him. He thinks he would have preferred just red, in the old Russian style, but they'd all been particularly pleased by the combination of red and white.

When he came out of the bathroom, his wedding clothes had been whisked away and Flower was sitting against the headboard, ankles crossed on the bedspread. She'd changed from her skirt and coat into a soft wrap dress, which was what she wore when she wasn't on duty but an emergency might happen at any moment.

"You're nap with me?" Zhenya said hopefully, and she nodded.

"Unless you'd rather - "

"No, no," he said, and climbed under the covers. She stuffed a pillow under her head, and rested her phone screen-down on her belly, ready to leap up and deal with a crisis. Zhenya squirmed closer, and rested his head against her hip, the silky fabric cool against his skin.

"You did great,” she said again, ruffling his hair. "Everyone loved you, you made a great impression. Now its just a party."

A party with all his new husband's family and friends, and only a handful of his own. Still. At least if he fucked up, it probably wouldn't end up a headline.

He took that comforting thought into sleep with him.

 

He woke up to find Flower already changed, putting the last touches to her makeup. Her dress was demure and navy, only the full skirt signalling it was a party dress.

Zhenya yawned his way through makeup and hair, and regretted his choice to shower before sleeping. He could have used the time to wake up properly.

By the time they'd covered the circles under his eyes, and glued his cowlick down, the bed was neatly made and his clothes laid out on it. Red this time, at least, a crimson velvet tunic with a belt of twisted gold. He'd look like a very fancy window treatment, but at least he could drink red wine if he wanted.

“It's apparently reminiscent of traditional Russian wear,” Flower said, “According to the designer, who is not even a little bit Russian. Don't just stare at it.”

He was allowed to dress himself, but his discarded clothes were whisked straight out of his hands and packed into a bag. At least they didn't wrap his sweaty t-shirt in tissue paper.

Flower stalked round him, searching for flaws, and then it was off to the reception venue, which was some nineteenth century mansion with the usual boring monochrome stone facade. Zhenya felt some gold leaf and colourful stripes might save it, but it still wasn't a patch on St Petersberg. Another powder room, another inspection, a careful retouching of his makeup. 

“You look ghastly when you're tired,” Flower said. “Lucky we're almost done, or we'd be sending out for grout and a trowel.”

Zhenya gave her the finger, because someone was dusting his lips with some kind of powder. He gave it ten minutes before he licked it off; he hoped none of this shit was toxic.

Finally, Flower took his arm and led him out to an ante-room, where Sidney, Prince of Nova Scotia and Zhenya's husband, waited. He didn't look very comfortable in his high collar and white tie, his face pink with heat, but he gave Flower the warm, vivid smile that made his whole face crinkle up. It smoothed into something more sedate as he offered his arm to Zhenya. Zhenya accepted it, and Flower waited, eyes on her delicate gold watch. It looked far too expensive for even a highly-paid private secretary, and Zhenya wondered if it had been a gift from Sidney.

“Just walk down, smile at the crowds, do a circuit – Geno, just follow Sid – and just smile until dinner's called. One drink only until you get some real food in you.” 

“We'll be fine,” Sidney said, and patted Zhenya's hand, as if he were the one fretting. Flower snapped her fingers and pointed, and a footman opened the door for them to pass through, into the candle-lit reception room beyond.

The evening reception had been described as _two hundred of their closest friends and family_ , which was such a fucking joke Zhenya had no words for it. He didn't even recognise most of the Russians, and the only Canadians he knew – apart from the Crosbys – were professional hockey players who Sidney had played with in junior hockey. 

It would probably be poor form to ask Patrice Bergeron for an autograph. He'd ask Flower to arrange it for him later.

Trina Crosby, who'd been created the Duchess of Halifax as soon as it was accepted there were no alphas presenting in the succession anywhere ahead of Sidney, kissed his cheek and gave him a Bellini, which was not the vodka he'd been hoping for. He thanked her anyway, and she held his face in both hands and told him, a little tearfully, to take care of her boy.

“ _Mom_ ,” Sidney said, sounding as genuinely emotional as Zhenya had ever heard him. “I'm telling Flower to cut you off.”

“Marie-Andrée wouldn't do that to me,” she said confidently. “She's such a nice girl. And now you have this nice boy. You're very lucky, Sidney, do you hear me?”

Zhenya was almost disappointed when dinner was announced. He could have happily watched Sidney blush and squirm for longer.

Dinner was heavy on the seafood, and dessert was heavy on the chocolate. Zhenya's glass was topped off with sparkling grape juice on the third refill, and he looked about balefully for Flower. She was nowhere in evidence, because, as she'd explained when he'd asked where she was sitting, this was work for her.

Zhenya felt, strongly, that it was work for him too. But at least he got to sit down. Sidney was up and off between every course and every speech, finding a new group of people to stop and chat to, clasping hands and making painfully earnest faces. Perhaps they really _were_ two hundred of his closest friends.

He had to have his makeup touched up again after dinner, while Sidney had the shine powdered off his face, and then they were released into the ballroom.

"First dance in five," Flower muttered. "Sid, I'll signal you from the booth." She slipped away through the crowds, and Sidney turned to smile at Zhenya,

"Ready?"

"What's first dance song? Nickelback?" Zhenya said, and regretted it when Sidney's eyes went wide. But then he sputtered into laughter, turning heads around them.

"No, it's not Nickelback. We're waltzing." He frowned suddenly. "You can - "

"Yes, yes, taught to waltz." His first gambit had had such success, he added slyly, "Can only lead, though," and poked out his tongue to indicate the humour.

"Oh god, really?" Sidney was watching Flower again, and didn't pick up the joke. Zhenya set his jaw, and didn't disclaim it, because fuck Sidney anyway. "That's okay, I can follow."

Flower gave them the thumbs up, and Sidney wiped his hands on his pants and turned to Zhenya, smiling.

"May I have this dance?"

"No," Zhenya said, but took Sidney's outstretched hand anyway. The lights dimmed gently, and a fuzzy-edged spotlight picked them out like they were ice dancers. Sidney put his hand on Zhenya's shoulder, and Zhenya put his hand on Sidney's waist, and saw Flower put her hand over her eyes. Oh shit, he should have corrected Sid - but too late, the musicians struck up.

Fortunately, Sidney could follow perfectly competently. After the first few steps, his face relaxed, and he gave Zhenya a crooked smile.

"Sleeping Beauty music," Zhenya said quietly, because dancing in total silence felt awkward. Sidney's smile widened.

"It's Tchaikovsky," he said, or mostly said, because his accent was atrocious. "We thought you might like something Russian."

"At least is not Bieber," Zhenya conceded, and Sidney bit his lower lip, eyes crinkling up. He hoped the photographers were catching this; they must look friendly. Fond, even.

He could be fond of Sidney, he thought, given the chance. He was kind, and earnest, and his body was solid and athletic, which was what Zhenya liked in men. He might have been interested in Sidney even if they weren't married.

They kept dancing into the next song, as the floor slowly filled around them, and then Sid led Zhenya over to the nearest cluster of Russians.

"I have to go dance with my mom, it's traditional," he said. "I'll see you soon."

Most of the Russians present were extended family, rather than being close to Zhenya. Which was fine; they spent a while picking over their exact relationships, and discussing cousins in common. It was faintly amusing to see the new deference towards him; he'd stepped from a junior branch of the family to the very highest rank, thanks to that little quirk of biology that had turned him out an omega.

"Sorry to interrupt," Flower said, arriving with an air of bustle, "I need to steal the prince away." She took his arm, and he obediently bade his cousins farewell, and followed her across the room. "All good? You should spread the attention round a bit. Sid will come off the dancefloor when we switch from slow dancing, he's just getting all his duty dances in."

"He's not dance?" Zhenya said, craning to see Sidney, who was now solemnly waltzing with a twelve year old Grand Duchess in a tiara.

"Not for a few drinks," Flower said cheerfully. "When all the cameras are put away and no one's got rhythm any more, then we'll get him out there."

"You want dance?" Zhenya unhooked her hand from his elbow, and gestured towards the floor. Flower looked extremely startled, and then shrugged.

"Well, why not," she said, and as Zhenya put his hand on her waist, she added, "It'll give me time to yell at you for telling Sid you couldn't follow, fucker."

"Was a joke!" Zhenya made his eyes as wide and innocent as they'd go. "He's not get." She was far lighter on her feet than Sidney, and their paces matched well.

"Yeah, you're going to walk all over him," she said, resigned. "Don't think you're going to get your own way all the time, though. I'm wise to your tricks."

"Got lots more," Zhenya said, and she tipped her head back on a laugh, exposing her long pale throat. "When's waltzing end?"

"Nine. There's a band. It might be Nickelback," she added, eyes glinting, and Zhenya sighs.

"They throw me out if I don't learn to love?" he said plaintively, and Flower patted his shoulder.

"I think you love hockey enough to make up for it."

Sidney returned to the dancefloor at eleven, after some prodding from Flower, and it was as hilarious as promised. Not that Zhenya was much better, but Sidney's unrestrained enthusiasm, plus the - well-muscled build of his lower body, meant he was something of a danger to innocent bystander.

Hockey ass and thighs. Apparently, Sidney had been quite the player before being announced as the heir and retiring for royal duties. The British monarchy had made changes to their inheritance law years ago, secure in two alphas lined up for the succession, but the Canadians required a constitutional amendment, which had repeatedly been bogged down and defeated.

Not that it would have changed much for Zhenya; there would have been some other diplomatic alliance calling out for an omega to seal it. At least Canada had hockey, and wouldn't limit his freedom more than the average royal.

Just before midnight, Flower extracted him from the party, tangling her heated fingers in his and leading him to the dining room. It was bright and empty of its furniture, only the balloons still clustered in the corners still reminiscent of the party.

His parents were waiting; Zhenya had avoided them over the night, hopping from group to group, inviting women to dance, and escaping to the bathroom. Flower was too fly to let him go the evening without speaking to them, though.

"We're going back to the hotel," his mother said, and held out her arms to him. "Oh, Zhen'ka, I hope - " she cut herself off, which was best. Flower's spoken Russian was slow and clumsy, but her ears were quick.

"All is well," Zhenya said, because it was. His parents lived in a nice house now, his brother had a good job with the government, and Zhenya himself would be treated like a prized pedigree dog all of his life. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. "Sidney is very nice."

His mother's mouth twisted unhappily, but she nodded.

"We will visit you," she promised, though that would depend on many things, most of which they could not control. "I love you, Zhen'ka."

"I love you, Mama." He squeezed her tighter, and then turned to his father, who didn't speak, just hugged him. There were tears in his eyes, and Zhenya tried to smile when he pulled away. "I love you, Papa. I think I'll be happy here."

"I'm sure you will be," his father said, not sounding very convinced. "If you want to be."

Flower didn't steer him back to the ballroom; she led him past a velvet rope, and into a small sitting room, where he sat on a plush sofa and drank a glass of water. She perched on the scrolled arm, and tidied his hair with absent fingers.

"We really do want you to be happy," she said after a bit, and Zhenya grunted. A palace in Canada was all very well, but it wasn't Russia. His dreams of fame and fortune had always involved earning with his hockey skills, not with his biology.

"What time party done?" he said. His limbs felt heavy, and they still had the wedding night to get through. Flower hummed.

"I'm thinking it's about time we're done, before people start trying to make Sid do shots. Let's get you upstairs to change, and I'll take care of things down here."

Zhenya could protest, tell Flower he was happy to rejoin the party, let Sid enjoy his wedding party. Instead, he nodded and followed Flower.

His going-away outfit was slacks and a soft, soft sweater in the same red as his robe. When he'd dressed, he went to check his appearance in the mirror, which was set in a polished wooden dresser taller than he was. He looked tired, eyes hollow and cheeks pale. Well, it wasn't like he had to be seductive.

Flower hurried in, barely breaking stride as she tapped on the door and pushed it open,

"Walk together down the main stairs, a few goodbyes - very brief, just family - and then into the car, there'll be a few photographers so just talk to Sid, keep smiling. Nice and easy." Her words were less precise than they had been that morning, exhaustion finally catching up with her. She hid a yawn behind her hand as she waved him out onto the landing, where Sidney waited.

"Okay! Off you go," she said, and Zhenya heard the hurried strikes of her heels away down the corridor as they began to descend the stairs.

There was a blur of embracing and handclasping, but it was as brief as promised, and they hurried down the shallow stone steps to the waiting car. He couldn't quite relax into the deep leather seats; they still had photographers, so he turned to Sidney and smiled.

Sidney had that mild, uninterested curve of the lips he wore when he was listening attentively, and Zhenya could feel his own smile turn a little sour.

"You look nice," Sidney said, which was a lie. Zhenya looked like a tired zombie. Then, Sidney was blotchy red and his hair was on end, so he had no room to complain. "We did a good job today, I think."

"Yes," Zhenya said, because fuck it, they had. Everything had gone off without a hitch, even every royal toddler had hushed in church, not a hem had been stepped on or a single cue missed. "Great show. People will like."

Sidney's smile widened as they passed the gates, cameras close to the windows of their car. He looked very charming, and Zhenya's own smile felt realer, his cheek dimpling.

He could have done much worse for a husband. They had similar interests - hockey and youth programs - he was only a year younger, and he was handsome. It would be nice to think they could build a real affection between them, to replace the life Zhenya had been plucked from.

The car pulled over, and Sidney turned to open the door. Flower tumbled in, wearing sneakers with her party dress.

"And that's a wrap," she announced, and giggled as Sidney pulled the door shut. "Oh, what a fucking day. Shit."

"You pulled it off perfectly. Geno was just saying how well it went," Sidney said, and she smiled at Zhenya.

"Yes," Zhenya said. "I think you do good work, Flower."

"So polite!" she said. "I'm not fooled. You're only polite when you're up to something. That's all right, you're going to learn to love me."

"Of course he is," Sidney said. "How could he not?"

Zhenya had known, of course, that a good-looking prince with no public romantic entanglements to his name had to have secret romantic entanglements. It had been disconcerting, though, to learn his husband's mistress would be arranging their wedding.

And, apparently, accompanying them to their honeymoon. Did Sidney intend to spend the night in her bed? He had to consummate the marriage, of course, but would he leave Zhenya after that?

He wasn't overly excited for a near-stranger in his bed, but the thought of his new husband leaving him for another as soon as he'd done his duty sounded even worse. Worse that it was Flower, who would undoubtedly be as sunny to him in the morning as she was now.

It would have been much easier to deal with a mistress with Flower on his side, manoeuvring Sid to his benefit.

"Geno?" Sidney said. His nostrils were flaring. "Are you all right?"

There was no good answer to that, as Sidney was obviously inhaling his dark mood. Flower addressed him in French, and Zhenya suppressed the urge to snap _English, please!_ It was clear whose side Sidney would take, and he shouldn't antagonise them this early.

Sid nodded at Flower, and then took Zhenya's hand in his, undaunted by the way Zhenya let it lie limp in his palm.

"I know you haven't done this before, but it's really fine," he said, and fuck, they think he's nervous about getting fucked. From all he's heard, getting fucked is easy; being alone in a strange country with his husband's girlfriend managing his life, that's hard.

"Is fine," he said, sounding wooden even to his own ears.

"It really is," Sidney said, sounding earnest. "I'm going to take care of you, I promise." He stroked Zhenya's hand, and it could have been nice, if Flower weren't watching them with an assessing gaze. "And Flower will be there, so you'll have - "

The rushing of blood in Zhenya's ears drowned out the next few words, and he must have gone alarmingly pale, because Sidney grabbed his arm.

"Here," Flower said, and pressed a can of Coke into his hand. Cherry coke, he noted resentfully, his favourite. He drank it anyway. "You did know, right - " she glanced at Sidney.

"Sid and you," Zhenya said after a few mouthfuls. "Not Sid and you and me."

"Flower's a beta, though," Sidney said, as if Zhenya could have been in any doubt about that. All women were betas. And, in theory, any relationship with a beta, male or female, could only be a poor second to the powerful bond between alpha and omega.

Zhenya wasn't a fucking idiot. The vaunted bond between alpha and omega was nothing but a hormonal soup, and if Sidney loved Flower, Zhenya was just going to be the guy he fucked until they had enough babies. And if she was going to be there even when they fucked, as well as every other moment of the day -

Well. Zhenya was never going to have a chance at making his marriage real. A marriage with affection, with shared work and interest and jokes, with children, was something he'd wanted, one day, and he'd had the hope that maybe he could still have that.

"It's fine," Flower said, and Zhenya's heart lifted for a moment until she said, "We don't have to consummate the marriage tonight, it can wait until you're comfortable - "

"Not going to be comfortable," Zhenya snapped, and then, "It's fine, we do."

Silence fell. That was that, then. He didn't regret it. Everyone would know, tomorrow, whether or not they'd consummated it properly, because Zhenya's scent would change, would pick up something of Sidney's scent, mark him as Sidney's property.

That was the whole point of an omega, after all. If you could smell every fuck on them, you never had to worry about some cuckoo child stealing the inheritance.

Zhenya watched the streetlights fly by in the darkened night and wondered what Flower and Sidney would smell like on his skin.

 

Zhenya was ushered straight into a bath that was huge enough for him to float in, piled with bubbles but completely scentless. All the little bottles were white or clear, professing to be aroma-free and hypo-allergenic. Zhenya's own scent would be the only one he'd wear.

If he'd been allowed to bring his own staff, he might have had someone willing to slip him some perfume to help conceal his moods, but Russia hadn't even attempted to send people with him. He supposed he should be glad they didn't strip him naked at the border and make him put on plaid.

Well. If Sidney couldn't get it up for an uninterested omega, it wasn't Zhenya's fault. But he had Flower for that, of course, to make things easier. Would she try and make Zhenya _interested_ , or just work on making sure Sidney could get it up?

He sank deeper into the bath when there was a tap at the door, wishing he could hold his breath and vanish under the surface.

"What," he said, and Flower poked her head round the door. Zhenya would object, but he was covered in bubbles like a meringue pie, and Flower would apparently be in bed with him later anyway.

"Can I come in?" she said, and then came in and sat on the edge of the bath anyway, getting wet marks all over her skirt. "Listen, I talked to Sid, and if you'd prefer another beta - "

"What?" Zhenya said. "How many people at this wedding night?"

"Huh? No, another beta instead of me. Not as well." She flicked her French manicure through the bubbles, looking past Zhenya's ear. "We thought - well, we thought you liked me, but I guess not. It's fine, though, we can find someone else."

Nothing about this made sense. Flower glanced at him, then away. Her lipstick had lost its gloss; she'd probably been kissed.

Sid had been kissing her and they'd been talking about -

"Sidney have other betas?" he asked, and Flower's spine stiffened.

"No. You could - pick one. Perhaps there's someone in Russia?"

"I don't understand," Zhenya said. "Don't understand why we need beta to fuck."

Flower met his gaze, her brown eyes wide. Then she frowned, opened her mouth, and shut it again.

"What the fuck," she said. "Do you not fuck with betas in Russia?"

"Don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Zhenya snapped back. "You fuck my husband, show up for wedding night, what I'm supposed to think?" He sank underwater up to his eyes, to prevent himself saying anything vicious.

"Usually," Flower said, in a patronising tone like she was talking to a five year old, "In arranged bondings, there's a go-between beta, one of the alpha's friends, who is sent to the omega."

"I know," Zhenya said, which came out very watery. He slid up a little, spitting out water. "Nothing was said about fucking."

"It was heavily implied." Flower folded her arms tight across her chest. "It's supposed to be for your comfort. You're supposed to like me, and it makes the wedding night easier for you and Sid, to have me there."

"Sounds dumb," Zhenya said, because it did, but Flower's face went rigid and she turned away.

"Fine," she said. "I'll tell Sid he can manage without me. Are there any instructions or messages you want me to pass on?"

"Sid will manage?" Zhenya said, unsure. The way she said it -

"Sid doesn't like change. But don't worry, he'll adapt. He's very kind and considerate, so just be honest with him and everything will go - smoothly." Her voice sounded different. Thicker.

Because she was telling her lover's new husband how to make love to him, and maybe Zhenya wasn't the only one having a bad day, here.

He was still having the _worst_ day, of course, because he was all alone in fucking Canada with no one to rely on, but Flower and Sidney clearly had their own stresses.

Flower's skirt was probably ruined by the wet anyway, he reasoned, and grabbed a handful of her dress and pulled her into the tub.

She shrieked and kicked her feet, fortunately not stabbing him with her heels, and Zhenya wrapped his arms around her narrow waist.

"Sorry," he said, and she sputtered and swore. "You should have explain before, about beta."

"I thought you knew!" she slapped at his arms. "How were we supposed to know you just shoved strangers in a bed and expected them to fuck? Why the fuck did you drag me into your bath, you fucker?"

"You're need too, not go to bed with you all smelly." Zhenya splashed her hair, and she spluttered and flailed at him. He'd never been with a woman; never thought he'd get the chance. He wondered what Flower would let him do to her. How did betas even fuck? Would she be obedient to Sid? Hard to picture that. She was staring at him now, head turned over her shoulder. Her mascara was smeared.

"You - what, you're okay with it now?"

"I think," and he can feel his face heating, and hopes Flower will chalk it up to the heat of the water. "Sidney loves you, and I think, no room for me."

"You fucker," Flower said, squirming round in his embrace. "I come all the way to Russia to get you, I'm my adorably charming self, I bend over backwards to take the best care of you, and you think we're assholes like that?" Her eyebrows were a flat annoyed line, and Zhenya ducked his head.

"I don't know you," he protested. "I don't - I don't know. Has been a lot."

"Jerk." She cups his cheek in her hand. "Sid and I love each other, but we've always known there was going to be someone else."

"Well, you get lucky," Zhenya said, with his best bravado, and Flower laughs.

"Well, we're stuck with you now." She twists further round, water spilling out of the tub, and kisses the end of his nose. "I guess we'll have to work with what we've got."

"Hello, hi?" There's a tap on the door, but Sidney doesn't come into view. "Is everything okay? The, uh, the bathroom is flooding a little bit..."

"Come in," Flower called, and - well, Zhenya had a stack of bubbles and Flower preserving his modesty now. And it was worth it for the baffled face Sidney made as he saw them.

"So it's... going well?" he guessed. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and boxers, which suited him very well, and his hair was damp and curling at the ends. Zhenya lifted his head to get a good look at his bare thighs, which were spectacular. "Okay, this wasn't what I was expecting."

"This asshole owes me a new dress. And some apologies, but I've already given up hope of them. Anyway, the three-way fucking is back on."

"Oh, right," Sidney said, brightening. "That's good. Should I - I can wait in the bedroom, or - "

"You might as well stay." Flower glanced at Zhenya, who shrugged. "Pull up a - no, actually, bring the champagne in."

Sidney obeyed, and Zhenya snorted.

"Thought alphas supposed to be commanding?" he said, and Flower raised her eyebrows.

"You try making him do something he doesn't want to do," she said. "Believe me, when he wants his own way, you'll see the alpha in the stubborn fuck."

"Don't believe her," Sidney said, carefully manoeuvring a gilt and brocade chair in, champagne under one arm and glasses clutched between his fingers. "I'm a very reasonable man."

"Sure you are." Flower sat up, and dragged her sodden dress over her head, throwing it into the sink with a splat. "Someone get my bra, please."

Zhenya was closest, and Sidney was wrestling the champagne like he'd never done it before, so it was up to him. He gingerly picked at the wet fabric, and unclipped the hooks and eyes with minimal fumbling. Flower tossed it after the dress, and then wriggled out of what turned out to be very brief, lacey underwear. Then she sprawled back on Zhenya's chest, and accepted a flute of champagne from Sidney.

"I deserve this," she said, and as Zhenya took his own glass, she drank the whole thing down before waving it at Sidney, who just took it away and gave her his own. "Such a long day, and not a single drink. And you're wasted, I know that look."

"Not wasted," Sidney protested, eyes bright and amused. "But people kept giving me drinks."

"And you're too polite to refuse." She thunked her head gently against Zhenya's shoulder. "Can you believe this guy?"

"So bad," he agreed. Mostly, he was watching her breasts, which were small and wet and shiny. He'd seen breasts before, of course, at wild parties and strip clubs. Once, he'd even had a lapdance, although that was followed in short order by a severe lecture from the royal PR office about just how badly that sort of behaviour could fuck up his marriage prospects, and thus his family's future.

He put his hand carefully around her waist, fingers spreading from the smooth rise of her ribcage to the softer flesh under her navel. She sighed, contentedly, and he ducked his head to kiss her cheek.

"So how do you want to do this?" she said, turning to look into Zhenya's eyes. He looked up at Sidney, who shrugged.

"We don't have to consummate tonight if you don't want to," he said. "I mean, I need to knot you eventually, but it doesn't have to be right away."

"You done any ass stuff, G?" Flower covered his hand with her own when he stiffened. "By yourself, no one's questioning your maiden purity."

"No," he admitted. "On heat suppressants, so - just ignore." He'd pretended his ass didn't get slick, and just fucked his hand and thought of getting inside someone. He wasn't averse to the idea of someone in him – if he could have had all the other things he wanted along with it.

"Well, we can give it a try and see how it goes." Her hand tightened on his, and she pushed down. "In the meantime..."

Zhenya licked his lips, and traced his fingers down the soft curve of her belly, down into the floating hair. He knew the anatomy, of course, but most of his information about women was based on locker room chat.

Being an omega in a locker room made you pretty certain of how much bullshit got flung about. He set his glass down on the edge of the tub so he could pay better attention.

She was folded soft skin, and he had to trace the line where hair abruptly ceased to orient himself. For some reason, he hadn't expected the inner folds to - protrude. Her breath sighed out when he ran his fingertips over them, and he did it again, and again, before pressing a little, and spreading her open.

The water made everything slick, but it was a different slick there, heavier. He could feel where she opened, small and tight, and it seemed improbable she could take a finger in there, much less an alpha's knot.

Zhenya worked his fingers upwards instead, searching for the clitoris. He missed it, somehow, reaching hair again, and he pressed his face against Flower's neck and tried working his way down. There just seemed to be a ridiculous amount of flesh, folded up like a puzzle, and he could feel his ears burning.

Only the soft, pleased sighs from Flower's lips kept him from giving up. Her hips rocked, her ass grinding against his lower belly, and his dick was thickening up. There was the deeper ache inside him, that would eventually become wetness, and openness, but with a beta in his arms it was a distant thing. He could feel every shuddering breath she took.

"Not sure what I do," he admitted, and looked up at Sidney. He knelt beside the tub, arms folded along the edge. "Little help?"

"For sure," he said, and shifted, reaching one hand down to cover Zhenya's. "Don't worry," he said confidingly. "Flower's pretty easy."

"Fuck you," Flower said, breathily. "You wait, I'll show Geno - fuck." Sidney had pinched her between two fingers, and her back shaped into an arch. Zhenya felt around, getting an idea of the geography, and then ran his thumb over the flesh Sidney held. "Fuck," and her voice pitched higher. "Fuck, G, right there, that's it."

"She likes a kind of circle movement," Sidney said. His tone was calm, but he was staring down into the water, following the movements of their hands where the bubbles had dissolved. "Not too hard - you can get rougher when she gets louder."

Zhenya followed the instructions, and Flower moaned, her legs spreading wider. She pushed into their hands, and Zhenya put his other hand on her breast.

"Yeah, fuck," she breathed. "That's good, G." He pinched her nipple, working it in time with the movement of his other hand, and sure enough, she got noisier, each breath fluttering into a gasp.

Sidney moved again, slipping his other hand down between her legs, and Zhenya envied him, even with Flower twisting in his arms. He wanted to slide his fingers inside her, feel how slick she got, how she stretched around him.

"Want to be inside you," he murmured into her ear, and she turned her head towards him. "Where you're wet. I want to open you up."

"Yeah," she said, and wriggled."Sid, can you - "

"Lift up," he said, and then his hand closed around Zhenya's dick, and Zhenya let out an embarrassingly loud gasp. "Fuck, Geno. You're huge." He stroked along the length of it, and Zhenya let his head fall back onto the bathtub. It shouldn't be so different, someone else's hand on him, but it was.

Then Flower pulled away from him, sitting upright, and Sidney pulled his dick to a different angle, and he felt her opening around him, soft and perfect.

He swore viciously, grabbing at her hips. Sidney's hands were still working between her legs, and she constricted around him as he sank deeper. It was dizzyingly good, a new ripple of sensation with every breath, and he stared at the wet hair plastered over her shoulder blades and tried to take full breaths instead of gasping.

Her spine arched, hard, and he could see himself driving into her, under the curve of her ass. See her spread around him for a moment, before her hips sank back down onto him. She was loud, now, her hips moving under his hands, her voice spiking into cries that echoed off the tiled walls, and she was so tight around him -

He came, panting, and she was even wetter and hotter, a mess he wanted to fuck into forever. Luckily for his pride, she came before he'd softened, humping between his dick and Sidney's steady hands.

"Fuuuck," she breathed, and collapsed back against Zhenya's chest. "Fuck. Sid, what the fuck did you do with my drink? Oh, fuck." Her hand drifted down, and she touched Zhenya's dick, where the head still lodged inside her. "Fuck, that's good."

"Good," Zhenya agreed. He blinked at Sidney, who had a high colour on his cheeks but was putting a glass into Flower's hands. "You not - "

"In a bit." Sidney nudged Zhenya's glass towards him. "I don't think there's room in there for all three of us."

"Bed," Flower said, and kicked her feet, splashing even more water. The floor was probably ankle deep. "Soon."

"No rush," Sidney said, agreeably. "More champagne?" 

He looked happier than he had since Zhenya had arrived, even squirming a little with anticipation. Like a shadow had been over him, and now he was sunlit.

"Think maybe this could work out," Zhenya told him, and Sidney's eyes crinkled as he smiled at them both.


End file.
